


He had me fooled for the longest time

by Tiramasu



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Angst, Baek is the sweetest boi, Character Death, Detective! Kai, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Genies, Ghosts, Hurt/Comfort, Idk how the ending will turn out just yet, Im gonna try and make it angsty, M/M, Minor Character Death, Modern AU, OT9 - Freeform, Slow Build, Solving crimes, Supernatural AU - Freeform, Updating tags as I go, baek isn't much good at his job though, bit of police work on the side, but dont worry cos baek is there to help, but dw cos it will only happen like a lot later on, chanyeol has a bad sense of humour, if at all, moments of crack, ptsd chanyeol, terrorist attack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-10-15
Packaged: 2019-06-08 09:29:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,988
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15240411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tiramasu/pseuds/Tiramasu
Summary: When Chanyeol had hit rock bottom he found an irritating, clingy and over-excited genie who helped him walk steadily on his own two feet again. But for all intents and purposes; it might be too late for Chanyeol to do the same for him.Or alternately, Baek is very bad at being a Genie but considerably better at being something else...





	1. He almost scared me to death

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, look uh this is literally the first thing I have ever written on the internet. I don't know what the hell I'm doing or how to actually use the publishing stuff on Archive. But please please please give this fic a chance because I have so many ideas for it and if you could just stick with me I can hopefully turn it into something that you might ultimately enjoy. 
> 
> I don't even have the guts to self-promo so I'll have to see how this goes. Please have faith in me because honestly, I don't have enough of it lmaooo. 
> 
> Happy reading.

Chanyeol hadn’t slept properly in days. 

It wasn’t because of an all-nighter, or a party or even a school assignment. He truly had tried to sleep but the entire night was restless, cold and scary. If he had a say in anything, then he’d say that that was worse than any all-nighter that he could have pulled.

The reason for his insomnia was because a month ago there had been an attack at the hotel that he worked in; a tall building called ‘The Cuore’. A bomb had been placed on the ninth floor and had resulted in the entire building bursting into flames. 

Chanyeol had been late to work that day. He had gotten into a fight with a pretentious businessman who had spilt coffee over him; Chanyeol had apologised for not looking where he was going and had waited for the man to do the same. Instead, a torrent of verbal abuse spilt forth from the businessman’s lips like overflowing lava, scalding and hurtful. But Chanyeol didn’t let the man get to him. 

Even now, he could only regrettably say that the man had quite literally saved his life. And Chanyeol didn’t like being indebted to anyone, especially snooty businessmen.

In the end, he and his saviour parted ways on particularly bad terms when Chanyeol purposely bumped into his shoulder whilst passing him. Not only had he interrupted the man’s torrent of insults, but he had also ‘dirtied his expensive suit’ apparently; Chanyeol paid him no mind.

Neither did anyone else. 

All attention was suddenly averted when a loud explosion was heard. It made the ground tremble and Chanyeol’s teeth seemed to rattle within his gums. 

The response was rather scattered; some smarter people ran away from the explosion whilst to others ran towards it out of curiosity and adrenaline. Chanyeol ran with the latter, but it wasn’t out of curiosity. It was out of fear. He saw the flames and smelled the smoke before he got there. How terrifying it was to see his workplace engulfed in a tall, roaring inferno. 

He wished he could have been braver about the situation. He wished he could have been there to save and help his colleagues, to at least be doing something other than standing on the wrong side of the police tape, earbuds out and hanging limply from his fingers, Gawking. Helpless. Petrified.

He could barely see through the plumes of black, toxic fumes as they poured out of the windows and doors, rising up to the heavens like sinners reaching for light. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to hear.  
So he turned on his heel, pushed through the crowds and ran, fumbling for his phone as he did so. 

Funnily enough, whilst he was running he had felt a paramount emotion of discomfort but he was fearing the wrong things. ‘What if the police think I was the terrorist? Surely my running away would make me suspicious?’.   
But no one chased after him, people with similar ideas of escaping ran alongside him, bumping into him harder than the businessman did as they scrambled for safety. He could still hear the wail of police sirens and the howl of helicopters above him, but when he raised his phone to his ear, he could hear a voice. Minseok’s.

“Chanyeol?! Jesus- Are you okay? Are you-” 

Chanyeol could hear some frantic shouts and scuffles from the other end of the phone that sounded like a loud crash and a thump that sounded like someone had just jumped and leapt off of a couch and then fallen onto the floor.

“Chan? Chan, are you there? Where are you- Stop doing that, Junmyeon, I can’t hear him!”

Someone told Minseok to turn the phone on speaker.

“Are you there?”

“Yeah,” Chanyeol said breathlessly, “I’m here. Oh god, did you see-”

“It’s all over the news!” Junmyeon said despairingly. “I’m watching it now and I’ve never seen anything like it! Everything’s-”

“-In flames,” Chanyeol finished, he squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to move sluggishly away from the blaze. From the noise. “I had to run away, it’s so loud. I can’t hear myself think. My ears-they're ringing-”

“Are you safe, Chanyeol? Were you in the building? Where are you now?” 

“Lay? Calm down, I’m fine. I just feel a little light-headed and shaken. I’m running back to my apartment, the suspect is still free-”

“No.” Yixing said firmly, “ You’re going to stay with us. Make sure you're somewhere safe and we'll come to get you. Where are you right now?”

Chanyeol told them.

“Can I come too?” Minseok asked and after a scuffling sound and door shutting, Chanyeol could only guess that Yixing had agreed.

“Junmyeon?” Chanyeol murmured into the phone, he stopped dragging his feet and leaned against a wall, sliding down it until he was sitting on the dirty pavement. “Oh god, what am I going to do?”

“You don’t need to do anything,” Junmyeon said quietly. Chanyeol could practically see him holding the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he watched the news on the television. He was treating him like a child, he was acting like his mother. Chanyeol was so grateful. “Stay still, Chanyeol. Breathe deep.”

“I can still hear it,” Chanyeol admitted fearfully, he leaned his head back to rest against the cold bricks behind him. “I ran away when I should have helped. My friends and colleagues-”

“No.” Junmyeon interrupted. “I’ll stop you there. You couldn’t have helped even if you wanted to. You would have put yourself in danger.”

“I didn’t even make an attempt to save anyone. It’s eating away at me, Junmyeon. At least I would have felt less shit if I actually tried.”

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon replied quietly. “I’m so sorry.”

Before Chanyeol could tell Junmyeon that there wasn’t a reason for him to apologise, he heard a shout, a yell and two dark shadows cast over him. He looked up with tired eyes and Minseok let out a strangled cry of relief and dropped to his knees in front of him. 

“We were worried out of our minds!” He repeated and he pulled Chanyeol into a tight, fierce hug. Chanyeol’s phone fell from his hand and skittered across the pavement as he raised his trembling hands to hug Minseok back, his fists bunched up the fabric of his coat in his grip. 

“I’m sorry.” He whispered into Minseok’s neck, he looked up to find Yixing crouching beside Minseok, soothingly rubbing his arm. For a moment they looked at each other with pure sincerity and understanding in their gazes. Chanyeol was beginning to understand the concept of mindless apologies and by the looks of it, Yixing understood too.

So here he was. A week later, still restless and guilty but safe in Jongdae and Minseok's apartment. Jongin and Sehun had dropped by every day of the week to the point where they had practically moved in, their comfort and company was a quiet one.   
They usually just milled around the apartment, offering comfort when it was needed; it was either a soothing caress of the elbow or a soft-spoken greeting, but Chanyeol was always appreciative.

 

Yixing, Minseok and Kyungsoo had been a little less subtle about the matter. Minseok fluttered around Chanyeol like a hen, timidly offering him blankets and at one point he and Yixing had brought a plastic bag full of soft teddy bears. 

“They might be a little childish.” Jongdae admitted sheepishly, “but they’re very comforting.”

“There’s nothing wrong with it!” Minseok said and it was obvious that he was shameless about it. He sat cross-legged next to Chanyeol and proceeded to give him a guided introduction to each and every one of them. “This one’s my favourite, it has pretty, golden eyes, you see?”

Kyungsoo had sat down next to him the next evening and furtively given him a little box. “I thought a little gift would cheer you up,” he said and it had obviously caught Chanyeol off-guard because honestly, it was a surprise. “A pendant. It’s supposed to protect you.”

Chanyeol ran his fingers over the smooth lid before opening it; the pendant was a rounded stone of translucent, candy floss blue attached to piece of long black string. When the sunlight passed through it, the stone cast beams of gold and green.

“Thank you,” Chanyeol murmured, fastening it around his neck. The smooth stone glinted brightly between his collarbones. “Thank you, you softie.”

“Don’t mention it,” Kyungsoo said with a shrug, standing up. “Seriously. Don’t tell the others.”

\-----

Chanyeol had responded to all of the text messages and calls from his family and he had never felt so loved before. Even people whom he hadn’t spoken to in years sent their regards; it just shows how everyone can only start to care once lives had been put on the line.

As for everything else, it wasn’t so nice. Everyday Chanyeol would watch the news religiously, waiting for an update on the number of victims, suspects, causes, footage. Anything really. He didn’t exactly know why he was doing it; Minseok had tried to coax him away from the television more times than he could count: ‘It’s just upsetting you, Channie.’ 

But Chanyeol had been adamant about it for reasons that even he couldn’t understand. 

Chen, being the therapist that he was, suggested that it was because he subconsciously missed the building and all the people that he worked with and that he was hoping to see them alive and safe in the small clips of footage.

'You’re not going to find any normalcy in watching the news.' Jongdae had said.

'I’m not looking for normalcy.' Chanyeol had responded sulkily, but he had listened to Minseok’s advice and switched to a drab game show instead. 

\-----  
Aside from his wretched and unhealthy obsession with the news updates, Chanyeol had also been suffering from nightmares of late; some of them were subtle, the type that left him in a cold sweat and others were more tormenting, more vivid, more real.

There was a recurring one that he hated the most. The hotel would be the same inferno every time. Flames and smoke poured out of the windows in such vast amounts that the sky was cast in bronze and ash. The wail of sirens and the screams of people cancelled out into a strident ringing in his ears and amongst the rubble, there were corpses scattered around like broken mannequins. Whenever Chanyeol tried to move, his legs were stuck as if he were wading through mud. He couldn’t do anything and when the building began to collapse around him he would always scream. 

He would wake up trembling, sweating and breathless and he wouldn’t go back to sleep afterwards. He would take out his phone and watch the news under his covers instead, the footage replaying in his mind like a broken record.

\-----

“You’re torturing yourself,” Jongdae said one day during dinner, “I think you keep watching the news out of guilt. You told me that the footage haunts you and yet you keep watching-”

“-Because I want to know what’s happening,” Chanyeol rebuked a little defensively. “What of it?”

“You’re denying it now. It’s perfectly natural, Channie.”

“I don’t need free therapy sessions, bro.” He said, trying to alleviate the tension with a joke but neither Minseok or Jongdae were smiling; instead, they exchanged dubious glances and there was an awkward pause before Jongdae spoke again. 

“I think that what you’re experiencing is ‘survivor's guilt’.”

“You don’t say,” Chanyeol responded sarcastically, but then a heat rose to his cheeks in shame as he suddenly felt guilty. “Sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Minseok looked highly uncomfortable and kept stealing cautious glances at Jongdae, who ate a mouthful of rice, chewing slowly before finally speaking. “I just want to say that there’s no need; you’ve done nothing wrong-”

“Really?” Chanyeol interrupted again, he set down his chopsticks with trembling fingers, for fear of snapping them under his grip. “Because the victim count just keeps rising, y’know? They haven’t actually released names yet, not officially.”

“That’s….that’s good, right?” Minseok asked quietly, but Chanyeol shook his head. His hands were fidgeting, tapping irregular beats on the table top to match his erratic heartbeat, beneath the table his knee was bouncing up and down sporadically. 

“It’s not. How am I supposed to know if my friends are in that count or not? There are still a few who haven’t responded to me yet. Luhan is-”

“Lu is a smart boy,” Jongdae repeated with vehemence. “I'm sure that he's alright.”

“What if he isn't? I haven't heard anything about him in days!”

“'What-if' statements are only going to make things worse. You have to stop thinking like that.”

Chanyeol clenched his trembling hands into fists and stared fixedly on his glass, watching the beads of water roll down the side. “I have nightmares about it, Chen - bodies, limbs, blood all over the streets.”

“Things will get better, you just have to give it time.”

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol said dubiously. “Are you really sure?”

“Yes,” Jongdae answered determinedly, Minseok nudged his fingers gently into Chanyeol’s trembling grip. 

“Just give it time.”

\----

 

Eventually, the sluggish summer began to cool down into a swift Autumn. It had been a little less than a month since the attack on the hotel which had been so generously dubbed as ‘The Cuore inferno’ by news reporters and media. It sounded incredibly dramatic to Chanyeol at the time, but the more he repeated the word ‘inferno’ under his breath the more his nightmares of the attack began to make sense; it really had been something taken straight from Hell.

Eventually, after an overuse of searching the word on the internet and reading it aloud, Chanyeol began to forget what it meant and finally stopped saying it altogether. 

His time with Jongdae and Minseok had been comforting, to say the least, but constricting as well; with each passing day, Chanyeol was beginning to feel more and more suffocated under their scrutiny, despite their good intentions.

So one night when Jongin and Sehun were visiting he sat them down in the living room. They all looked anxious and Minseok was fidgeting the whole time, his hands twisting uncomfortably in his lap. Chanyeol felt bad but this was something he had to talk about, his nightmares had been worsening and it had been increasing his paranoia and anxiety, stopping him from doing what would seem to be mundane things.

“I appreciate all the help and support you’ve given me,” Chanyeol started but the tone was so formal it didn’t sit right with him, it felt like he couldn’t even talk to his friends in the same way that he used to. “Fuck-”

“Take your time, Channie,” Sehun said with an encouraging nod and Chanyeol almost smiled. He found it somewhat ironic that the baby was treating him like a child; he found it endearing.

“This past month I’m not feeling any better. I keep having these nightmares and...well the fact that they haven’t actually caught the guy makes me feel anxious y’know? Like...like I don’t feel safe-”

“Chanyeol-” Jongin whispered, looking distraught. He looked like he wanted to say something else, maybe to reassure him but Sehun placed a hand on his knee, shaking his head.

“I know. Look I know that the police are after the suspect and all but they’re still loose out there and I can’t help thinking that this whole plot is something bigger y’know? Like a- a mobster gang or terrorists or something and I just get so anxious- ha! Look I’m sweating!” Chanyeol swiped a hand across the back of his neck, feeling the cold moisture cling to his skin like something sinister.

“So what are you suggesting?” Jongdae asked, his tone was gentle and patient. He always was.

Chanyeol breathed harshly through his nose as he wiped his clammy hands on his thighs. “I want to go home for a while. I think I need some isolation, peace and solitude and all that shit.”

“I don’t know, Channie,” Sehun said, looking concerned. “Is being alone the best thing right now? You just told us that you were feeling anxious.”

“Maybe we’re the ones making him feel anxious, Sehun.” Jongin quietly and his statement was confirmed as true when Chanyeol didn’t deny it. Sehun looked hurt momentarily before he masked it with mock understanding. Chanyeol didn’t like it. 

“It’s nothing personal,” he said adamantly. “It isn’t you, it’s me. There’s something really wrong with me and I have to think this through, I have to make sense of what’s wrong with me and fix it. I think it’s for the best.”

“That’s a terrible analogy,” Jongdae pointed out. “But if you really think it’s what you need then maybe we owe you that much.”

“You don’t owe me anything! If anything-”

“Sorry sorry, my wording was off, I meant to say that we give you permission.”

Chanyeol smiled gratefully but Minseok still looked dubious. “Are you positive that this is what you need? Isolation?”

“No,” Chanyeol replied truthfully. “It might be a terrible idea-” Minseok cringed but Chanyeol continued- “but I’ll never know until I try it and right now it seems like the best thing to do.”

“A month then,” Minseok said after a beat of silence. “If you feel better within a month then we’ll leave you be otherwise we’ll find an alternative- and Chanyeol-” Minseok stood and wrapped his arms around him in a comforting hug. 

“-you can call on us anytime you want.”

Chanyeol returned the hug with equal vehemence. “Yes, mum.” He said and Minseok’s laugh came out all muffled from where his face was pressed into the too-small jumper that he had stolen from Jongdae. 

“Thanks.”

\----

So here he was, standing on the threshold of his little apartment which had been empty for over a month. Kyungsoo and Yixing had helped clear out and restocked all of the food from his fridge so that it didn’t smell like rot when he returned and judging from the strange scent of apple he’d guess that Jungmyeon had used a generous amount of his limited edition apple orchard air freshener. 

He knew he was incredibly lucky to have friends like the ones he had but he couldn’t find it in him to feel it. He flicked on the lights in the hallway and kicked off his shoes, discarding them carelessly in the corner. The apartment was cold and devoid of life, it seemed too isolated for even Chanyeol’s preference. 

Intimidated by the silence he flicked on all the lights, switched on his old radio to the soft buzz of crackling music and tried flinging open the curtains the way a character of redemption would in a Hollywood rom-com. However, the sky was muted by drizzling, grey clouds and there was no warmth to be found from the sun. He closed them immediately. 

He wasn’t too sure as to what he would do now. The television sat quietly on his shelf, taunting him with its black screen to switch it to life like he had done with everything else, but Chanyeol couldn’t; for once he didn’t want to know what was going on around him. He existed in this apartment and this apartment alone. 

Just as he was about to sink into his favourite armchair to relish in the newfound peace he heard a voice that scared the living shit out of him. Surprisingly though they were delivered without malice; a simple ‘Excuse me, sir?’ that had him screeching and jolting to his feet in a matter of seconds.

A teenaged boy stood behind his chair, he looked no older than him and he had a look of alarm contorting what would otherwise be a youthful face. Chanyeol didn’t really spend any longer analysing him; this wasn’t an adolescent fanfiction where he had time to describe every freckle on his face. Chanyeol genuinely thought that his life was in peril.

So he did what any threatened man would do. He hurled his jar of caramel scented candles at the boy, who screamed in turn, raising his hands to protect his face; the candle, however, missed him. 

‘How did I miss?’ Chanyeol thought as he hastily reached for something else- a baseball bat, a chair, a can of apple orchard air freshener- ‘I win nearly every game at bowling- how could I miss?’

“Sir!” The intruder cried. “Please wait! Don’t attack! I’m just a city boy-”

“Don’t you quote ‘Glee’ at me, you son-of-a-bitch!” Chanyeol raged, his paranoia got the better of him and his hands closed around a copy of ‘Don’t be an asshole’ which was given to him in a secret Santa event at work, even though he knew perfectly well that his old colleague Tao had gotten it for him. “Tell me what the fuck you’re doing here or I swear to god I’ll-”

“Don’t bother,” the intruder said and he straightened his back and folded his hands, suddenly looking cocksure and somewhat arrogant. “You can’t hurt me.”

“Then why did you scream the first time, huh? Explain that you little-”

“I was leading you in with the idea that I was just a weak boy so that you’d ultimately underestimate my true strength and powers- Jesus!”

Chanyeol had promptly cut him off by hurling the book at him with vicious arm strength, not because he was intimidated per se but more like he had felt an overwhelming surge of irritation. The intruder had still screamed, had still cowered but instead of hitting him dead-centre in the face, the book sailed through his head as if he were nothing but air. 

There was a moment of silence over the apartment, save for the blaring horns of traffic outside and the mellow tinkle of music from the radio. Everything sounded far away and the scent of apples was getting to Chanyeol’s head. 

Had this been a bad choice? In these few moments of absence and reclusion had he finally gone mad? Chanyeol felt the cold sweat break out across his skin again and the scent of artificial apples became less of a smell and more of an odour, blocking his nose and meddling with his brain. The intruder looked no better, in fact, he almost looked just as surprised as Chanyeol did and if anything he looked a little guilty as well.

“No, this can’t be right,” Chanyeol said, glancing between the asshole book and the boy in front of him. “Something is very wrong here and I am 90% sure it’s me.”

The boy shook his head and Chanyeol didn’t know if he felt relieved or even more distressed. “It’s not you, you’re not going mad. Look,” To prove his point and worsen Chanyeol’s situation the boy swiped his hand back and forth through Chanyeol’s lamp. The lamp didn’t wobble or fall over, but instead stood stock still, unbothered by the disturbance. “See?” The boy said.

Chanyeol swallowed thickly and wiped his hands on his jeans again despite it making no difference. He reached for his chair, pretending to sit down and he watched as the intruder visibly relaxed. Taking advantage of this moment, Chanyeol seized the biggest cushion on the chair and chucked it at him...only for it to pass through like everything else.

At this point, the boy was no longer shocked but instead just glared at him disapprovingly. “Really?” He said pithily. 

“What are you?” Chanyeol whispered and his quivering legs finally gave out so that he collapsed in his chair. He gripped onto the armrests so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The boy smiled finally and his chest rose with a breath of pride and for a moment it reminded Chanyeol of Sehun’s grin. Oddly endearing. 

“I’m a genie,” the boy said proudly. “And I’m here to grant your wishes!”


	2. All he was is silver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly exposition tbh and I stan Luhan so, of course, I had to include him lmao.  
> (Idk how to not be a dick in these summary things so I'll leave it for now, lmao. Also everything is riddled with mistakes and my only friend is the free version of Grammarly)
> 
> Happy reading?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is mostly exposition tbh and I stan Luhan so, of course, I had to include him lmao.  
> (Idk how to not be a dick in these A/N things so I'll leave it for now lmao)
> 
> Happy reading?

Chanyeol would be lying if he said the situation had been completely resolved but in the past hour there had been at least a brief moment of solidarity.

He and the genie had come to a temporary agreement to which Chanyeol had helpfully laid out some rules; the poor genie seemed all too eager and had started with the ‘five-meter rule’ where neither of them was allowed more than five meters near of each other.

Chanyeol really must have scared him, even more than the intruder had scared him. The poor genie seemed to be constantly intimidated by Chanyeol’s every move, fidgeting in his seat and bloviating about nothing in particular. It seemed that talking was his only coping mechanism and Chanyeol found it incredibly irritating; he could deal with garrulous people but this genie was a whole new level. But all things aside, the genie seemed more human than spectral.

That should have been warning number one: A genie that wasn’t used to being a genie.

Chanyeol had realised halfway through his fit that it wasn’t really about the genie’s safety anymore, but more about the safety of his belongings. This was proven when Chanyeol had picked up his vintage record player in his blind anger only to be jolted back to reality by the genie holding up a hand as if he were a spooked horse.

‘Put down the record player,’ the genie had warned, ‘and nobody gets hurt.’

Chanyeol raised the record player above his head, his eyes flashing. ‘So you _do_ want to hurt me!’

‘You’ll regret ever living if you damage it.’ The genie rebuked. ‘Put. Her. Down.’

Chanyeol’s eyes had bulged indignantly at the use of the affectionate pronouns but the genie had commanded him with such vehemence that he genuinely felt intimidated...along with a spark of something else.

Chanyeol had immediately lowered the record player to the floor as a sheen of sweat broke out across his forehead.

Looking back on it now, Chanyeol was immensely relieved that the genie had stopped him from committing any other destruction to his apartment but other than that he felt little to no remorse.

 The last time Chanyeol had threatened the genie was around twenty minutes ago; so as he sat, perched at the edge of his armchair with his chin in his palm, he now had plenty of time to observe the boy for what he really was. Chanyeol tried his best to look laid back but his eyes were narrowed and judging from his previous outbursts, the genie could only interpret it as a smoldering glare and he could almost feel himself wither on the spot.

Instead, Chanyeol was trying to commit each and every detail of the genie to memory so that the police sketches would be accurate when it came down to describing him.

“You’re...you’re still skeptical of me, aren’t you?” The genie said miserably.

“I’m fucking freaked out, that’s what,” Chanyeol replied, but he wasn’t looking at the genie. He was looking at his hair which was the most obscene shade of silver he had ever seen. Chanyeol couldn’t dream of achieving such a hair colour even if it meant pouring a vat full of bleach in his hair.

The genie shifted self-consciously and turned his head to look elsewhere, but Chanyeol’s fixed gaze didn’t take the hint, he glanced down to look at his clothes instead: a loose white shirt with billowing sleeves, tied closely at the neck with strings that glittered as if crystals had been woven into the thread. The fabric of the shirt itself gleamed like satin but rippled across his body with every minute shift, shimmering like sunlight glancing off of water.

Although he knew very well that none of this was really relevant for the police sketches, he found his gaze lingering on a bracelet on the genie’s left wrist. How hadn’t he noticed it before? Where everything else on the boy was silver and white, the bracelet glinted with a brilliant gold. It looked far too big for him but no matter how much he waved his hands, it stayed put.

“Do genies have currency?” Chanyeol asked suddenly, gesturing towards the genie’s attire. “Or were you just born with all this expensive stuff?”

In response, the boy looked relieved at the normal conversation and somewhat humoured by the prospect of ‘birth’. “It came with me! We’re a packaged deal, I can change if you want though-”

“What about your bracelet? That looks like it costs thousands.”

“Have you seen _Aladdin_?” The genie said suddenly; just as Chanyeol’s eyes narrowed into something more belligerent the boy continued. “Well y’know how the genie was trapped to his lamp? And he had those golden handcuff- type-things on him?”

“I don’t know where you’re going with this-” Chanyeol said callously.

“It’s the same concept,” the boy said with a shrug. “It’s just to show how I’m a genie in service. To you.”

“You’re bound to me,” Chanyeol stated blandly, suddenly feeling a heat creep up his neck. He didn’t have to look to know that his ears were red.

“Uh...yes,” The genie said. “But instead of a lamp, I’m actually bound to your necklace. Where it goes, I go.”

 “This thing?” Chanyeol pulled Kyungsoo’s pendant from under his shirt, watching it cast pretty colours against his collarbones. “I’ve had it for weeks! Why didn’t you turn up earlier?”

“I’d prefer to turn up when you’re alone. Just so your friends don’t lose their shit like you lost yours.”

Chanyeol stuck his tongue into his cheek to stop himself from asking any more questions. He felt disturbed, his scepticism slowly melting away into dubious acceptance, the genie’s story seemed to make sense...Chanyeol clicked his tongue. Give him a couple of minutes and he was sure to find a few plot holes in his alibi, but for now, he was stumped.

“What’s your name?” He asked finally. “I’ve been calling you ‘genie’ and ‘boy’ in my mind for the past hour.”

 The genie furrowed his brow and paused as if he were deep in thought before slowly muttering under his breath. “Byun Baekhyun…”

“Excuse me?”

“Byun Baekhyun.” He repeated, sounding more convinced.

“Is that a nickname? Or did you genuinely just forget who you were?”

“No…” Baekhyun said slowly, his silver eyes darting around thoughtfully. “No, I’m pretty sure that’s my real name.”

Chanyeol didn’t probe any further, Baekhyun looked puzzled enough as it was and he was too tired for any type of existential crisis, let alone one from a mythical being. “Well we might as well be civil from this point on-” Baekhyun’s head jerked up to look at him with surprised delight in his eyes- “since I’d imagine picking wishes is pretty difficult. My name is Park Chanyeol.”

“I know.” Baekhyun started and when Chanyeol shot him a nasty look of suspicion he quickly explained. “I spent a month in hiding; couldn’t help but overhear some things y’know?”

“New rule,” Chanyeol said with a shudder. “No spying or whatever it is. If I can’t see you then you shouldn’t see me either. It’s only fair.”

“‘Fair’?” Baekhyun repeated in dismay. “I have so much potential and you’re just gonna deny it? Look, watch this!”

So Chanyeol did. He watched with increasing horror as Baekhyun’s body became transparent; his skin began to shimmer the same way his clothes did, growing lighter and lighter until all Chanyeol could see was his glittering bracelet and a flash of deep-set silver eyes. Saliva dried up in his throat leaving his mouth feeling parched and his tongue seemed to shrivel; when Chanyeol blinked, Baekhyun was gone.

“Baekhyun?” He called out and he cringed at how his voice broke. He cleared his throat and tried again but there was no response. He pushed himself out of his chair and walked stiffly to Baekhyun’s stool. He swiped his hand through air. Nothing. He peered around the room, looking for a glimpse of movement. Baekhyun was nowhere to be seen.

Chanyeol felt incredibly foolish as he stood in the middle of his living room, his skepticism and denial coalesced into self-doubt. Had he really imagined everything? Baekhyun had been funny company and he had tried to kill him but was that all fake?

Chanyeol’s face lost its colour.

 Had he lost his wishes? Or had he made those up as well?

He slumped back down into his chair, distressed and more lugubrious than before. He had raised himself out of the darkness in a moment of sweet oblivion caused by the false hope that he had created for himself. He glanced behind him, his caramel candles were scattered across the floor, wax broken and powdery. His copy of ‘Don’t be an asshole’ lay face down with the spine creased and the pages crumpled.

Chanyeol had never been the most creative person, even in primary school standards. Whilst Yixing had been appraised for his creative story about ‘Lay the sheep who ruled over China for a short period of time’, Chanyeol’s banal story of ‘A tale of dog and cat’ failed to win over the teacher’s approval. At least he did better than Kyungsoo who had apparently written about a tax-evading fox and a gazelle falling in love, ending in a fashion that was suspiciously similar to Romeo and Juliet.

In any case, Chanyeol refused to believe that he had conjured up something as mad as a genie and simultaneously convinced his own mind so much that he had trashed his own apartment.

 It’s not true. He convinced himself, turning away from the wreckage. Baekhyun was real.

He saw a glimmer across from him. The air next to his bookshelf wavered like heat rising off of concrete. A glimpse of gold. A flash of silver. A wavering mirage...and Baekhyun was back, preening his hair in the reflection of Chanyeol’s mirror looking none the wiser.

“Pretty cool, huh?” Baekhyun said as if he hadn’t noticed the paleness in Chanyeol’s face. “Did you miss me?”

“Sure.” Chanyeol said and this time he couldn’t quite keep a straight face, he let the corners of his mouth turn upwards into a relieved smile, “Were you uh...present the whole time?”

“Yeah! I saw your entire breakdown from start to finish!” Baekhyun turned around to face Chanyeol with his silver-blue eyes and endearing smile. “You can pretend all you want but I know for a fact that you like me-”

“-Okay I’ll stop you there.” Chanyeol interrupted, the warmth at the tips of his ears had returned all too fast. “I’ve known you for a grand total of two hours, my opinion doesn’t change that quickly. So the rule still stands, no matter how ‘cool’ your invisibility is.”

Baekhyun rolled his eyes and muttered something under his breath that sounded like ‘killjoy’. Chanyeol chose to ignore it. “Now that you’re back though, I wanted to talk about my wishes.”

Baekhyun fluffed his hair absently. “What was that? I didn’t hear you over the sound of our blooming friendship.”

“The wishes.” Chanyeol repeated bluntly, “What can I wish for?”

Baekhyun’s smile collapsed into a pout. “Of course, it’s all you humans care about, isn’t it? You don’t care that there’s an awesome spectral being in your presence-”

“I literally tried to kill you for being a spectral being, I honestly think I cared too much.”

Baekhyun waved him off and continued as if Chanyeol hadn’t even spoken. “So what will it be, Dumbo?” He asked, revelling in the satisfaction as Chanyeol self-consciously touched his larger-than-normal ears. “Fame? A new car? A buttload of money?”

“How shallow do you think I am?” Chanyeol asked incredulously. “My workplace just got bombed.”

“What then?” Baekhyun said. “Insurance money?”

“What? No! Why are you guilt-tripping me? Giving wishes is literally your job!”

“Let’s see how you handle being a Genie with tenure,” Baekhyun rebuked and he crossed his arms childishly, his dark eyes flashing. “The only civil conversation we’re having and it’s wasted on wishes. What did I expect?”

Chanyeol bit back a response and growing more and more irritated by the second. Then, in a brief moment of trepidation, he realised something strange: Dark eyes? He peered closely at Baekhyun’s frowning face but all he could see was the same silvery-blue from before.

Chanyeol shook his head, puzzled and Baekhyun’s softened into gentle concern as if he was physically incapable of staying angry. “You okay?” He asked quietly and Chanyeol nodded. Maybe one day he would respond more honestly. Maybe one day he would finally stop lying and tell people the truth other than ‘I’m fine.’

 “I need to sleep,” he said instead, feigning a yawn. “I can barely think straight.”

Baekhyun watched him with the same look that Jongdae would: an expression that said he wasn’t utterly convinced.

“Right.” He said finally and his skin glittered. “I’ll be here when you wake up. We can talk wishes later.”

When Chanyeol looked again, Baekhyun was gone and by the tone of his voice, it sounded like he never wanted to ‘talk wishes’ again.

\-----

The city was on fire.

 The sky was dyed crimson and the smoke devoured the edges of his vision. Chanyeol was sweating but he felt cold. He had to get away from the fire, but everywhere he turned there were towering spikes of flaring gold and red. Closing in on him. Trapping him in a dense ring. Clouding his vision. Freezing his skin.

_This way!_

Chanyeol spun and the flames parted. A building. A voice. The street behind him is a roaring red wall of flames. The voice before him turned into a person. A silhouette. They hold out their hand. This way! Chanyeol jolts forwards and grabs hold of them and they push through the flames together, stumbling into the cool lobby of The Cuore.

Chanyeol looked around, his hands still clasped tight around his saviour’s. It was a gallery show. His childhood paintings were framed on the walls, tacked up with thorns. Luhan was the one pinning the childish scrawls to the wall. Chanyeol watched in horror as his friend clipped the thorns from the stems of white roses and pressed them into the wall, blood streamed from his fingers in little rivulets.

_Look this way._

Chanyeol looked away from Luhan to follow the voice. His hand was burning. He tried to pull out of his savior’s grip but they held fast. _Let go!_ He screamed but his words were silenced somewhere in his throat. _Hold on_! His saviour laughed. _Hold on_! Chanyeol looked up, eyes wide. The businessman leered down at him. Slate-blue eyes sharpening with cruel intent and cutting words. _Hold on!_

His wrist burned and blistered. The businessman laughed. This is a dream. Chanyeol tried to scream as his skin crumbled under the businessman’s grip like ash. It’s a dream...He’s dreaming...This isn’t real... _So why can’t I wake up?_

 _Hold_...The burning sensation dulled away into nothing and Chanyeol watched as the businessman’s terrible face melted away like wafting smoke. A soft, coolness brushed across his skin like a breeze and Chanyeol suddenly felt himself falling.  
He watched the lobby vanish around him as he soared through velvet darkness.  
The coolness caressed him and a distant humming vibrated in his ears as if someone was singing a lullaby in an empty hall.

 _Wake up_. The voice beckoned. _Dumbo._

\-----

For the first time in a month, when Chanyeol awoke his heartbeat was calm, not erratic and his breathing was steady, not panicked. His skin was still fiery but the coolness from his dream had lingered.

For the first time in a month, Chanyeol could think straight.

 He sat up slowly, his bedsheets were tangled and damp from sweat. He kicked them off and peered through the darkness of his room, the evening sun was still beaming through his drawn curtains. It was empty and quiet, lit up by the electric glow of his phone.

 

**\-- 16:20 --**

**-1 unread message-**  
 **Luhan** : Hey, I lived bitch...

Chanyeol’s heart skipped a beat and was back to its erratic pace again. He unlocked his phone with trembling hands and sure enough, after a long chain of unanswered texts over the last few weeks, a new message shone back at him. Along with the address of the hospital.

 **Luhan** : Come pay me a visit, bih.

Chanyeol wasted no time in getting ready. He tore through his wardrobe and stumbled through the apartment as he struggled to lace his shoes. He shrugged on his hoodie and had one arm through the sleeve before he halted, noticing Kyungsoo’s pendant glinting at him from the table.

After a moment of consideration, he snatched the pendant up and clipped it around his neck; then he slipped on his hoodie properly and stole out of his apartment.


	3. Kind gestures and charity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This fic is becoming less of a fic and more of a shitshow I am so sorry. Idk what else to say, I do have a general plot for this fic but it's really difficult to write my way there, I always seem to run out of content lmao.
> 
> But thanks for reading this stuff.
> 
> Happy reading.

“Okay...and now add the salt...that’s right...stop arguing or everything will start burning!”   
  
Sehun scowled and muted Yixing and Kyungsoo who had been guiding him through a very specific recipe of ‘the best kung pao chicken you’ll ever have the pleasure of tasting’.    
  
In his desperate attempts to alleviate the stress on Jongin’s shoulders, Yixing and Kyungsoo- the self-proclaimed ‘best cooks of the squad’- had offered to help Sehun cook a meal via Skype video call. Sehun thought it would be stupid to turn down such an offer. ‘How hard can it be?’ he had said with a laugh. Yixing and Kyungsoo had laughed too but it was only now that he realised that he had underestimated cooking in every aspect.    
  
He clutched the bowl of salt and stood over the sizzling wok, closely aware of how Yixing was watching him like a hawk. “Here I go.” He said and he tossed the entire bowl of salt into the fray.    
  
Almost immediately the flames leapt up so high that they almost touched the ceiling, scorching the fan into oblivion. Sehun screamed and snatched his iPad off the counter and all but Komando crawled behind the kitchen island. He unmuted his friends only to hear Yixing’s static yelling and Kyungsoo’s wheezing laughter in the background.    
  


“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say he threw all of the salt in at once; bowl and all,” Kyungsoo said and Sehun turned a very dark shade of red. “Believe it or not though, ceramic bowls can be saved-”   
  
“It was plastic!” Sehun snapped, already beginning to smell the acrid reek of melted plastic. Kyungsoo sucked in a breath with a sympathetic wince.   
  
“Now  _ plastic _ is another story.”

“You lied to me!” Sehun screeched at them. “You told me that this was safe! That it was a foolproof recipe!”   
  
“I told you we should have gone for the idiot-proof pizza plan instead,” Kyungsoo said to Yixing, wiping tears from his eyes. Yixing kicked him off-camera.   
  
“It was supposed to be! Is your kitchen okay? You weren’t supposed to add the salt all in one go!”   
  
“You’re fretting about my bloody kitchen when I literally came this close to getting my vogue-worthy face burnt to a crisp!” Sehun screeched, squishing his forefinger and thumb together. Yixing squinted at the screen and then opened his mouth to respond but Sehun continued gallantly. “Yes, my stupid kitchen is fine, you heartless prick! And you never mentioned that I was supposed to fucking ‘salt-bae’ my way through kung pao chicken.”   
  
Kyungsoo erupted into a fresh bout of somewhat painful sounding wheezes.   
  
Sehun scowled again. He hadn’t heard Kyungsoo laugh so hard in  _ weeks _ ; who knew all it took was a life at risk?  _ Not any life _ . He thought.  _ Probably just mine; what a cynical monster.  _   
  
“Check the chicken,” Yixing instructed. “Don’t give me that look. Just do it.”   
  
Sehun peered around his kitchen island. There was a faint smell of smoke but it was overpowered by the burning scent of Sichuan chilli peppers and melted plastic; every time Sehun breathed they would blister his throat and scorch his lungs into a series of hacking coughs.    
  
“Is this normal?” He croaked, blinking back the tears in his eyes. “I think I’m dying.”   
  
“You won’t,” Yixing reassured. “Just open a couple of windows.”   
  
Sehun held his iPad close to his chest and crawled across his kitchen to the closest window, shoving it open and gulping down the fresh air. He then looked at the blackened contents of the wok, the chicken looking like lumps of charred coal still sizzling from the fire.    
  
Sehun switched off the gas cooker, blinking viciously to stop the tears from overflowing (from the peppers of course). “It’s ruined.” He muttered, showing his friends his dismal attempt at cooking through the webcam.   
  
Kyungsoo all but shoved Yixing out of the way to screenshot it. “Let’s see what Gordon Ramsay has to say about  _ that _ .”   
  
“I just wanted to prepare a meal for Kai,” Sehun said tearfully, poking at the blackened food with a chopstick. “He always works so hard and so  _ late, _  especially with all the investigations.”   
  
Kyungsoo exchanged a glance with Yixing, both of them nodding in mutual sympathy. “We know, baby boy.” Yixing said, softly despite the indignant look from Sehun. “But Jongin loves you, gesture or no gesture.”   
  
“He has a scary job, y’know?” Sehun admitted. He stood the iPad back on its stand and hastily scraped the burnt chicken into the bin. “Detective work isn’t at all like Brooklyn 99. I don’t like it. I didn’t mind so much when he used to wear the police uniform but now he doesn’t wear it unless it’s a formal meeting or whatever.”   
  
“I’d be worried for our national security if the police department was anything like Brooklyn 99,” Kyungsoo said. “But on the contrary, I feel  _ safe _ knowing that Jongin is out there saving the world. You tried your best today; next time we’ll find a child-proof recipe to try.”   
  
“I can’t tell if you’re being nice or condescending,” Sehun muttered, miserably. “But thanks anyway, I guess.”   
  
He wafted the smell towards the windows with a tea towel, praying that when Jongin returned he wouldn’t be able to notice. But who was he kidding? Jongin was a detective for a reason.

Sehun heard the front door open and when he peeked into the hallway, Jongin smiled at him, hair dripping wet from the rain. He held up a plastic bag. “I got Chinese.”

Sehun could have kissed him there and then. 

\------

Chanyeol hadn’t been to the hospital in years; with Minseok and Jongdae making sure that he was in his peak condition he never really needed to. He had to give it to them: they took good care of him.

But upon entering the hospital, he couldn’t help but feel unnerved. That sterilized smell made his nerves tingle as if they knew that it was there purely to mask something more sinister. It was busy too. After the attack at  _ The Cuore _ , most of the wounded survivors had been admitted to this hospital. 

The receptionist was an old woman with a saggy face that resembled a weathered bulldog. “How may I help you?” She asked flatly with perfunctory politeness.    
  
“I’m here to see Luhan.” Chanyeol said, “I’m his friend.”   
  
The old woman shifted her dirty glasses onto the sharp bridge of her nose and peered closely at the computer screen, typing in letters with her decrepit fingers. “Hmm…” She said, “Hm, yes. Second floor, ward 5, room 77- You do realise that visiting hours are up in an hour?”   
  
“Sure,” Chanyeol responded and when the old woman narrowed her eyes at him he flashed a quick smile. “Thank you?” He tried, the old woman just rolled her eyes and made a ‘shooing’ gesture. Chanyeol was all too eager to obey.   
  
He skirted round equipment trolleys and apologised to the people he bumped into. He gripped his pendant tightly in his hand, feeling his heartbeat pound beneath his fist.    
  
“Need some company?”   
  
Chanyeol felt too overwhelmed to answer back and this time he wouldn’t deny it: he really didn’t want to be alone, no matter whose company it was and right now; the eccentric genie was as good as anything. 

He nodded a little stiffly and Baekhyun edged a little closer; a clear violation of the ‘five-meter’ rule but neither of them seemed to mind. There were more pressing matters to attend to.   
  
After a moment of trepidation, Chanyeol hovered outside of Room 77, hesitating over nothing. If it weren’t for Baekhyun getting impatient and drifting through the door first he probably would have chickened out. He pushed open the door and was suddenly taken aback by the amount of colour that had been crammed into the small room. On every table surface, there was a fresh bouquet of brilliant flowers, blooming so brightly that Chanyeol could hardly see Luhan through the lush petals. ‘Get well soon’ cards had been blu-tacked to the wall and helium balloons of every colour had been tied to the bed with colourful ribbons. 

Luhan had always been popular.  


“Hey, Channie!”

Chanyeol pushed some of the balloons out of the way and shifted a vase of flowers onto the floor to sit on the chair. “Hey.” He greeted with difficulty. “Looks like you’ve had loads of visitors already.”  


“Eh, it’s mostly from family,” Luhan said with a shrug. His voice sounded dull.

“And from secret admirers?” Chanyeol added, tugging at the string of a heart-shaped balloon that read ‘Get well soon. I love you!’.

“Not so secret anymore,” Luhan sighed. “Remember Tiffany? My cousin’s- boyfriends sister.”   
  
Chanyeol furrowed his brow even though he knew exactly who Tiffany was; an excitable girl, pretty but somewhat unnerving. “Yeah...yeah, I know her... _ Tiffany? _ ”   
  
“That’s what I thought!” Chanyeol and Luhan shared a dark, sombre look. Then Luhan’s cheeks turned pink and Chanyeol pursed his lips and one glance later they had their heads thrown back in painful laughter.   
  
“Ow! Oh my god- my  _ ribs _ .” Luhan wheezed and Chanyeol snickered until their laughter died down.   
  
“I’m glad you’re okay.” Chanyeol blurted suddenly and Luhan just laughed it off until he realised that Chanyeol was being serious.   
  
“Come on,” Luhan said quietly, picking at a loose thread in the bedsheets. “Don’t go all soft on me, I’m tired of it. Look at me: what’s there to worry about? This is peak condition.”

Chanyeol looked, close and hard, scrutinising him. It wasn’t peak condition at all; there was an ugly bruise on Luhan’s cheekbone, marring his face with a sickly yellow colour, his left arm and leg were bound tightly in a plaster cast; both decorated with colourful sharpie signatures. His breathing was a little laboured, skin a shade paler and his eyes were ringed with dark, bruised circles...but he was smiling nonetheless. The same type of smile that almost convinced Chanyeol that he really was okay. Almost.   


“Why did you take so long to tell me that you were alive?” Chanyeol said after a long pause.   
  
Luhan’s smile faltered momentarily before it returned, but this time it looked superficial. “I didn’t contact anyone other than family until now. I dunno...maybe it’s because I wanted to see them first? I needed them first before I met any friends or colleagues or whoever. I needed them.”   
  
“You couldn’t even send a text? We all thought you were dead! Jesus, Luhan couldn’t you just have-”   
  
“I’m sorry, Channie,” Luhan said sincerely, but when Chanyeol looked up at him he could see a resolution glowing brightly in his eyes. Luhan had been through literal hell, but as far as conviction and determination goes, he had come out of that explosion with his soul completely intact and unscathed. He might not have seen it before but looking at him now, Chanyeol realised that there was not an ounce of regret in his friend. “It might have been wrong to not tell you sooner and I am sorry for it. But if this happened again I would-

“-still do the same.” Chanyeol finished and Luhan nodded. He might not understand Luhan’s way of thinking but could no longer bring himself to feel angry about it because everything that Luhan was...still is. “I get it. I’m just...really glad you’re alright.”

“I appreciate that you all care but the love between friends and family are different. It just turns out that I needed one type more before the other.”

Luhan lifted his undamaged arm and Chanyeol shifted forwards for a hug, careful not to jostle him. “I should bring the others next time; they were worried too.”   
  
“Really? Even Kyungsoo?”   
  
Chanyeol pulled away so Luhan could see the sparkle in his eyes. “ _ Especially _ Kyungsoo.”

He watched with growing amusement as Luhan’s mouth dropped open in fake surprise and he grinned at his raised eyebrows. “Bloody hell,” Luhan murmured. “The world really has gone mad.”   
  
“That’s what I thought,” Chanyeol joked back. “But deep down I feel bad for being surprised. After all, Kyungsoo is as soft as anyone.”   
  
“I miss them. Really. Make sure to bring them for a visit; it’s about time I stopped playing dead.” Luhan nodded over to the clock on the wall, the thin, ticking needles edging closer to six o’clock. “You’d better get going; the nurses here are terrifyingly strict about curfew.   
  
“Yeah, I met the receptionist.”   
  
“Oh, you mean Charity?”   
  
“ _ Charity? _ ” Chanyeol repeated incredulously. “That’s a hooker’s name.”   
  
“Is it now?” Luhan replied, tugging at a helium balloon. “Just your type then.”   
  
To the left of him, Chanyeol heard a quiet gasp and when he turned around he saw Baekhyun returning his gaze with a glacial stare. “ _ Your type?  _ She’s like eighty years old! She could barely move!” He said looking disgusted. 

“He was joking!” Chanyeol defended, his ears turning red. He had forgotten that Baekhyun had been standing there for the whole time. “It’s just banter!”

“Who are you talking to?” Luhan asked, peering at the wall where Chanyeol had been looking; all he could see were ‘get-well-soon’ cards. “Is this an after-effect of the blast? Are you hallucinating?”   
  
“I’m not and I am going to leave now,” Chanyeol said and at this point, his ears were burning. “Goodbye, Luhan. See you uh…”   
  
“Tomorrow?” Luhan offered and Chanyeol nodded. “Bye-bye, Channie.” Luhan wiggled his fingers in a flirtatious goodbye and Chanyeol retreated quickly out of the room, bumping into his chair and knocking into the door on his way out.    
  
\-------

At around five pm it had started raining. Sehun had been partly thankful, for the smell of petrichor had temporarily blocked out the inherent scent of burning in the apartment. He had acted dumb until Jongin found the burnt chicken in the bin and he was forced to explain his cooking shenanigans. 

Jongin just laughed and kissed him with such fervent affection that Sehun contemplated on burning food more often. He had said this aloud but Jongin immediately rejected the idea. 

Now the two of them were huddled on their sagging couch, tubs of empty Chinese littering the table and an episode of  _ Brooklyn 99 _ buzzing on their television. It was incredibly cliche, especially with the rain pattering against their window but as often as these moments occurred in movies, they rarely occurred for Sehun.

“I wish we could do this more often.” He said quietly, “You’re always off saving the world with your investigations, it’s like I don’t see you anymore.”   
  
Jongin didn’t answer but instead reached up and started playing with his hair. Sehun decided to continue.   
  
“How are the other officers treating you?”   
  
“They’re alright now,” Jongin said and Sehun could feel the vibrations coming deep from his chest as he spoke. “I think they needed to time to get used to an openly gay detective, y’know?” 

Sehun watched as Captain Holt and Jake Peralta paraded around in their television. “Right.” He said callously. “You sure it’s not just because they’re homophobic assholes?”

“Oh they are,” Jongin confirmed, he spoke in a calm and level tone making Sehun feel like a petulant child. “But now that they know that there’s no getting rid of me, they simply have to adapt and get the hell on with their lives.”   
  
Sehun wanted to press further. He wanted to ask if Jongin truly was happy where he was, surrounded by homophobic colleagues who took six months simply to ‘adapt’. But he knew it was a touchy subject and it was a route that he definitely didn’t want to head down. He lapsed into silence, relaxing into Jongin’s touch.   
  
An episode ended and a new one started. Neither of them were really watching but then again they didn’t really feel like talking either. Eventually, when the third episode ended and Sehun was drifting off to sleep, Jongin switched off the television and removed his hand from his boyfriend’s hair. Sehun looked up quizzically, tired and dazed until he saw Jongin’s tense shoulders and clenched jaw. He sat up immediately.    
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked, touching his face. 

“I’m fine,” Jongin said, catching Sehun’s hand in his own. “But I have to talk to you about something.” 

Sehun nodded encouragingly so he continued. “My team and I were assigned to the ‘Cuore inferno’ investigation today. It’s a huge ongoing case with the majority of the city’s forces assisting. As you know, the suspect is still very much at large but we have reasons to believe that this attack was actually part of something bigger.”Jongin paused because during his explanation he had noticed that Sehun had turned very, very quiet. “Sehunnie? Are you okay?”   
  
Sehun swallowed and pulled his hand out of Jongin’s grip, his jaw was clenched in what looked like controlled anger. “So the police force have you working cases against an active terrorist.” He said quietly and Jongin rushed to defend but Sehun silenced him with a look. “Let me be angry. Just this once. I’ve seen the people of this same force treat you like dirt just because you like men and now they’re expected to be on your team?  _ They’re _ the ones who are supposed to have your back if you’re at risk? Forgive me if I’m bloody concerned about who you're entrusting your life to.”   
  
“I don’t expect you to trust them,” Jongin said in the same level tone. “But  _ I _ will because I trust that they’ll take their jobs seriously. They might not protect me out of their own will but they will for the job.”   
  
“How can you be so sure?” Sehun refuted. “If you’re put in a situation where it’s your life and someone else’s at risk. Who’s that one asshole officer going to choose, huh? Well, let me answer: It won’t be you and I’m not even saying that to be mean!”   
  
“But it was,” Jongin replied softly. “That  _ was _ mean. Cruel, even.”   
  
“But it’s the truth and we both know better than anyone that the truth is the cruellest thing of all. This isn’t fair. Not on me, not on you, because we’re struggling. It’s obvious and there’s no use in denying it. I barely see you these days, you’re always too wrapped up in these stupid, dangerous cases that your boss unloads on you. When I do see you-you're too tired to even stand on your own two feet, let alone talk to me. I love you, Kai. More than you know but what will I do when you go out for a case and don’t come back? This might be the one, it’s as good as any: an active terrorist on the loose who’s actually part of a much bigger plan. I can’t help but worry about you.”   
  
This time it was Jongin’s turn to stay silent. This was the conversation that they never wanted to have but was always inevitable.  _ This _ was the issue that was really eating up their relationship. “I know what you’re about to say,” Sehun said. “‘I’m sorry’, is that right?”   
  
“What would you like me to say?” Jongin asked helplessly and Sehun narrowed his eyes, searching his face for honesty.   
  
“Tell me that you won’t accept this case.” He said but when Jongin shook his head, his shoulders sagged and he stared at him, crestfallen. “Why? Why won’t you do it?”   
  
“This is my chance.” Jongin replied, “this could be my breakthrough case. If I assist in this investigation it could mean something great for me. For us.”   
  
“A promotion? That’s it?”   
  
“A chance,” Jongin repeated, steadfast. “If this case is solved I’ll have more time with you and I’ll be able to be happy at work as much as I am here. With you. You don’t need to worry, I’ll stay out of the crossfire if I can, I’m not a field agent, after all, it’s not my job. I’m just a detective, no guns required.” 

Sehun didn't believe him but nonetheless, he reached up and caressed Jongin’s face, mapping out the bridge of his nose and the bow of his lips. Jongin’s gaze never shifted and again Sehun knew exactly what he was trying to say: _Let me do this._ _Trust me. Let me do this._ He could hear it over and over again in his mind. He could see it over and over again in his listless eyes. Emploring. Intense. Boring into him until Sehun finally exhaled and nodded in acceptance. 

_ Okay.  _ He breathed and he felt Jongin’s breath mix with his own. He felt his arms wrap around him and pull him close. He felt his lips press against his forehead. Sehun closed his eyes and breathed in the smell of Jongin’s skin: Cinnamon and aftershave.

_ Okay. _

\-----

“About Charity. I- Well I didn’t mean what I said about it being a hooker’s name. Luhan was kidding about...well y’know-”

“Calm down, little dumpling,” Baekhyun said sweetly and Chanyeol, yet again, pulled a face at the ridiculous nickname.   
  
“How do you even come up with these-”   
  
“I knew it was a joke,” Baekhyun said as if Chanyeol hadn’t spoken. “I had you fooled, didn’t I? But your ears were so red and it looked so ridiculous! If I had a phone I would have taken a picture.”   
  
Chanyeol stared, stunned. “You’re...a very modern genie,” He said stupidly. “And I really hate your sense of humour.”   
  
“Your sense of humour is just as weird,” Baekhyun shot back. “But today was the first time I’ve heard you laugh like that.”   
  
“That would actually sound really touching under different circumstances but we’ve only known each other for like, less than a day.”   
  
“You forget that I’ve been hanging around for a month...you should laugh more often. It suits you much better.”   
  
Chanyeol scoffed and held open the door for Baekhyun who stared back at him. By the time he realised what he was doing, Baekhyun had already walked through, smiling at him brightly. Chanyeol’s ears turned red and he let the door swing shut behind them.    
  
“I think I prefer this though; your red ears- I dunno, it’s a close match.”   
  
“You’re very human for a genie,” Chanyeol said. “Think I could wish for some food right now? I’m starving.”   
  
“You’re treating me like a human,” Baekhyun replied. “It’s nice. It makes me feel real.”   
  
Chanyeol glanced at Baekhyun and in the dim lamplight and stretching shadows, his eyes looked impossibly dark. He seemed wistful but when he caught him staring he would smile again. Chanyeol decided to keep his wishes to himself for the benefit of them both.    
  
“So Luhan, huh?” Chanyeol looked up and Baekhyun grinned back, raising his eyebrows suggestively.   
  
“No.” Chanyeol deadpanned in return, “We’re friends, we worked together in the hotel.” Although he found Baekhyun’s lack of filter irksome, it wouldn’t do any harm to humour him.   
  
“Aw really? That’s a shame.”

Chanyeol slowed his pace a little and watched Baekhyun march ahead of him, arms swinging comically by his sides. “Y’know, you seem to know a lot about me but I don’t know anything about you. Do genies sleep and eat? Can you float like they do in  _ Aladdin _ ? And can you change your eye colour?”

Baekhyun whistled. “If you wanted to play ‘Twenty questions’ then you could have just said so. We don’t need to eat or sleep but I want to, I can’t float like  _ Aladdin _ but I want to and I can’t change my eye colour, but-” he turned to face Chanyeol- “I can do  _ this. _ ”

Chanyeol watched with the same astonishment as he did before, as the genie’s brilliant silver hair began to turn red, then candyfloss pink and then bubblegum blue as if he were a changing mood lamp. “Wait,” he said and Baekhyun stopped with his hair halfway between a golden blonde and peach. “Go back to peach, that looked really cute.”   
  
Baekhyun shook out his hair so that the locks draped over his eyes and turned it back into the pastel peach colour. “Nice, right? I can change my clothes too.”   
  
“What, even dresses?”   
  
Baekhyun scoffed. “You say that like I can’t pull one off.” Almost immediately his silver-satin clothes bloomed out into a vibrant mint green dress and Chanyeol nearly choked. Baekhyun fluffed his hair as if he were Marilyn Monroe and winked at him. “Tell me I don’t look good, I dare you.”   
  
Chanyeol could only laugh in disbelief and when Baekhyun twirled and blew him a flirtatious kiss he doubled over and laughed until he could barely breathe. “What the fu- no- stop. Fuck.”

“What’s wrong, Mr Chanyeol?” Baekhyun asked, batting his eyelashes. “Cat got your tongue?” He spun again and this time the dress fell away into a pair of torn jeans and a hoodie that almost seemed to reach his knees.    
  
Chanyeol’s laughter dwindled down into hiccups as he clutched at his aching ribs. An old woman watched from across the street and when Chanyeol caught her staring she hobbled away as fast as she possibly could, but for once he didn’t seem to care. He looked back at Baekhyun who was busy tousling his new auburn hair. “Is that my hoodie?”   
  
“A copy actually,” Baekhyun corrected, rolling up the sleeves so they bunched up at his elbows. “Does it suit me? Can I keep it?”   
  
Chanyeol found himself staring longer than he really should have, eventually, he looked away and unlocked the door to his apartment, holding it open for Baekhyun again. Deliberately this time. “Sure, it’s not really mine anyway.”   
  
\-----   
  
Baekhyun ended up wearing the hoodie for the rest of the night despite the size. Whilst Chanyeol heated up some instant noodles in the microwave, Baekhyun took the time to peer at all of his bookshelves, asking him questions about his favourite stories. Chanyeol answered plainly but honestly and Baekhyun seemed to appreciate it.   
  
When Chanyeol switched on the television and kicked back in his recliner, Baekhyun decided to join him after he lost interest in his books. They flicked through the channels and made half-hearted jibes at the reality shows; at one point Chanyeol mindlessly flicked to a show named  _ Idol Producer _ and Baekhyun seemed so enthusiastic about it that Chanyeol feared for his life.    
  
“I didn’t know you could sing.” He said after he had watched Baekhyun clumsily mirror the dancers on tv, singing along passionately whilst literally up to his knees in Chanyeol’s coffee table.   
  
“There’s a lot that you don’t know about me,” Baekhyun replied, slumping back down in Chanyeol’s chair (how he managed to sit down without falling straight through baffled him). “Take me to a karaoke bar and you’ll see.”

After another few hours, Chanyeol yawned widely into his fist and his eyelids began to droop. Baekhyun glanced at him. “You tired?”   
  
“Yeah, but I don’t sleep well,” Chanyeol mumbled. “Maybe I should wish to get rid of these nightmares.”

Baekhyun dropped his gaze to the floor and Chanyeol cursed himself for forgetting his previous pledge. “Sorry, I’m joking. I just have these really bad nightmares when I sleep, they’re an absolute pain.”

Baekhyun hummed as if he knew exactly what he was talking about and he fiddled with his golden bracelet. “Go to sleep, I think you’ll sleep fine tonight.”   
  
Chanyeol pulled himself out of his chair and stretched his arms above his head. “Wait, does this mean I used my wish? I said that I was joking.”   
  
“Consider it on the house,” Baekhyun replied.   
  
Chanyeol felt giddy; the prospect of a dreamless sleep seemed so enticing that he almost wanted to jump into bed right that second.    
  
“Baekhyun?”   
  
“Yes, Dumbo?”   
  
“Thank you.”   
  
Baekhyun didn’t turn around, he kept his eyes trained on the television even though he wasn’t necessarily watching it anymore. Chanyeol watched the back of his head as his auburn hair slowly turned back to peach; it made him wonder if the genie was blushing.

Either way, Chanyeol kept his pendant safe on his bedside table that night and surprisingly, Baekhyun had been right: this had been the first night in a long time where he didn’t see the burning building or the businessman. In his dreamless state, he could only recall a lingering coolness on his skin and the soft hum in his ears, lulling him into a deep sleep.


	4. Would you like a dose of the Truth? No, thank you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyy long time no see. I just started college and I hit a vicious wall in terms of writing content. This chapter is a bit longer than the others, I introduced some new people and the plot is beginning to build- where to? I only have a very small idea.  
> I was also going to say that Grammarly isn't much help so if a n y o n e is willing to try beta reading a chapter or two, just to point out mistakes then pleaspleaslpleaspleaplea tell me and I'll love you forever lmao.
> 
> Happy reading.

“Channie...Chan-Chan...Chan-fucking-yeol, will you please get up?”

Chanyeol muttered a curse word under his breath and pulled covers over his head in an attempt to block out the pathetic whines of his genie. It didn’t work. Instead, his genie spoke again, this time his voice was so close it might as well have been an echo inside his very head.

“Getupgetupgetupgetup-wakeup-wakeup wakeup-”

“Oh for God’s sake will you be quiet!” Chanyeol groaned, peeling back his covers and swatting a hand blindly as he squinted against the light that spilled past his curtains. “What happened to rule the ‘if-I-can’t-see-you-you-can’t-see-me’?”

Baekhyun grinned and he spread his arms in triumph; his hair shone a brilliant gold, illuminating his face like the sun. Chanyeol realised, with growing annoyance, that Baekhyun looked the way a star would; if they ever had a face and a body, that is. Chanyeol realised a little later that he was making no sense whatsoever.

“Rise and shine, princess! You’ve been asleep for 8 hours and 45 minutes, the weather’s great today! Open the curtains- yeah, go on, open them...See? Ta-da! It’s a perfect day to go out, right? Let’s go out!”

Baekhyun, for all intents and purposes, reminded Chanyeol of an over-excited puppy, which wasn’t as cute as it sounded. It was exhausting to be around someone as over-enthusiastic as Baekhyun, who was larger-than-life and more lively than Chanyeol could imagine a mythical apparition to be. But Baekhyun was right; the weather was beautiful as it had been for the past three weeks; the sun was warm on his face but cooling with the breath of the approaching winter and the trees planted on the streets below bowed with their branches of fiery gold. There was a gap in the horizon of towering buildings where the hotel used to stand; for many weeks it had stuck out like a sore thumb, a missing front tooth in a line of perfect teeth. It didn’t bother Chanyeol anymore. Baekhyun said that with this new horizon he could see more of the sky.

Speaking of Baekhyun, it had been three weeks since Chanyeol had first met him and although he could never say that he’d grown used to him being around, he did admit, begrudgingly so, that Baekhyun’s company had really been for the best. Chanyeol’s state had been visibly improving, much to the delight of the others, especially Minseok and Jongdae; both of which had fawned over him with such tender care that a casual observer could have mistaken them for parents or something of the like.

‘Look at you!’ Minseok had said, combing his fingers through Chanyeol’s hair. ‘You’re thriving! You don’t look so tired anymore, have you been sleeping better?’

Chanyeol had just grinned at Baekhyun and said, ‘I’ve slept better than I have in months.’ Jongdae had craned his neck to see what Chanyeol was looking at, but of course, all that he had seen was a single pigeon fluffing up its wings on the side of the pavement.

This much had been true, according to Kyungsoo and Yixing his skin was looking less grey and his eyes were brighter than they had been before. Chanyeol didn’t exactly know what that meant but he appreciated it nonetheless.

Baekhyun appeared next to Chanyeol’s elbow and perhaps a few weeks ago he would have flinched, but as he watched Baekhyun fluff his golden hair he couldn’t really tell why he had been so afraid and apprehensive, to begin with.

“I think red suits you better.”

Baekhyun raised an eyebrow at him but changed his hair anyway; a deep, rusted red colour bled through the strands, dying them into a rich shade that camouflaged him against the autumn leaves outside like a chameleon.

“Good?”

Chanyeol nodded with a yawn and brushed his own hair with the tips of his fingers. “Good. Let’s go.”

 

\----

 

Chanyeol knew that he must have been getting better because he had spent a good hour and a half preening in the mirror. For a long time he hadn’t really left the flat and therefore not cared about his appearance, but now with his fabled companion/self-proclaimed roommate constantly boosting his ego by praising him for his looks, he was beginning to feel more and more like himself. This could either be a good or bad thing for Baekhyun had nearly been bored to death waiting for him; he had told Chanyeol this countless times but every time Chanyeol would reply with a simple ‘Genie’s can’t die’ and return to adjusting his clothes.

It was like a routine that he had forgotten about but felt amazing to remember. He brushed his hair until it gleamed, fluffy and soft and he switched through at least four different outfits before finally settling for a warm coat and stylistically faded jeans. Perhaps this was another step towards the normalcy that he had missed so much?

By the time they finally left the apartment block it was early afternoon and the weather wasn’t looking so nice anymore; the sun had been masked by the thick streaks of grey clouds and there was a chilling breeze that made the tips of Chanyeol’s ears turn red. Annoyingly but as expected, Baekhyun was unaffected by the weather.

Chanyeol breathed into his chilled fingers and wrung his hands together, watching Baekhyun as he weaved in and out crowds, passing through the occasional jogger or dog-walker. Rush hour had dwindled down since the attack; all of the corresponding roads surrounding the hotel had been shut down to make way for rescue teams, cranes and whatnot. For some commuters, it would be one hell of a holiday.

Chanyeol could still see the cranes from where he stood; multi-coloured structures that stretched towards the sky, taller than most buildings. It had been a good few months since the attack and yet the sky still hummed with the steady thrum of helicopter blades as they swept back and forth over the wreckage. Unbeknownst to him, Chanyeol found himself walking towards it, somewhere in his subconscious he remembered his journey to work and was walking it now. He didn’t fully realise where he was until he was looking at the rubble and the road closure signs and the police tape.

From where he stood he could still see smoke rising from the piles of concrete and he wondered if it was still from the fire or if it was from the countless drills that bore into the broken structure. Baekhyun slipped through the tape, curious as ever. He peeked into ambulances, eavesdropped on conversations and pulled faces behind the news reporters. Chanyeol wondered what it was like to be so nonchalant.

He was preparing to leave when he saw another police car pull up on the other side of the street, two men stepped out. One was tall, intimidating and darkly handsome, he wore a dark uniform, emblazoned with brass buttons and a smart badge. His uniform, much like him, was pristine, crisp and ridiculously good looking. He wore his police cap too, but it was tilted at an attractive angle so as to show off the stray strands of hair that curled about his eyebrow. He flashed his badge at one of the officers and they nodded approvingly, raising the tape so that they could duck under it. Officer tall-dark-and-handsome said something to his colleague and Chanyeol leaned forwards to catch a glimpse of him.

Baekhyun appeared next to them, he gestured to the first officer and mouthed something obscene to Chanyeol with an incredulous look. ‘Move your ass!’ Chanyeol hissed back and a poor medic who had been standing nearby glanced at him and shuffled away. Baekhyun furrowed his brow in confusion and Chanyeol repeated himself, mouthing the words slowly. Baekhyun squinted his eyes then laughed in understanding and finally, with an over-exaggerated wink, moved behind the officer.

Before Chanyeol could even wonder why he had winked like that, Baekhyun reappeared in front of him. “So impressive,” he drawled and Chanyeol looked at him blankly. Baekhyun drew a ridiculously large hourglass in the air with his hands and winked again. “Makes me wonder what police workouts are like if you know what I mean.”

“I don’t.” Said Chanyeol in a glacial tone.

“No biggie, if exercise isn’t your thing then I’m sure you can just invest in a good pair of trousers and yours will look just as good.” He moved so that he was leaning on the hood of one of the cars and he gazed dreamily after the officer. “There’s always something about a man in uniform isn’t there? It’s an absolute wet-dream.”

Chanyeol didn’t say anything but instead shot Baekhyun a look of avid disgust that said it all. He tuned out Baekhyun’s gay fantasies and honed in on the officer’s friend; he was shorter and more hastily put together, he had to jog to keep up and when the young officer turned to look over his shoulder, Chanyeol caught a glimpse of a strong jawline and a gently sloping nose. Chanyeol recognised him immediately.

“Kai!” He called out and he felt Baekhyun jolt in surprise. “Jongin! Over here!”

It was probably unprofessional for Chanyeol to interrupt their investigation in such a way but Jongin smiled, said something to his colleague and jogged over nonetheless. He was followed a few moments later by the officer who stalked over with long, powerful strides, one hand in his pocket as he graced the concrete pavement like it was a catwalk. Baekhyun bit into his fist.

“Chanyeol! What are you doing here?” Jongin asked, breathlessly. Chanyeol felt a pang of remorse; Jongin had looked better, his usually glittering eyes were dull and flat and there was a shadow of stubble on his face.

“Just visiting,” he answered. “I just thought I’d see.”

Jongin nodded in a sympathetic way and only seemed to recall his colleague when he felt his imposing shadow cast over his shoulder. “Introduce me?” The man said and his voice was somehow just as Chanyeol expected it to be: rich and baritone, like running caramel.

Jongin flailed for a moment before clapping Chanyeol painfully on the shoulder. “This is Park Chanyeol, he’s a good friend of mine and Chanyeol, this is Lieutenant Wu Yifan. We’re temporary partners on this investigation.”

Yifan held out his hand and Chanyeol shook it. For a brief moment, he thought he saw a dark twist of a tattoo on his wrist, but then Yifan released his hand and the sleeve covered it up again. “Detective Kim told me about you,” Yifan said and Chanyeol had to physically stop himself from blushing and saying ‘really?’. “I heard that you were a victim of the explosion too? I’m really sorry about it; we’re working hard to catch the bomber.”

Chanyeol could only nod for he was distracted greatly by Baekhyun, who was now kneeling on the floor with his cheek pressed to the concrete as he inspected Yifan’s shoes. “That’s a hell of a lot of heel for a guy,” Baekhyun said. “That’s like - what, an inch? An inch and a half?”

Finally, Jongin touched Chanyeol’s shoulder, leading him away from the wreckage. “Could you give us a moment, Lieutenant?” He asked and Yifan nodded. With a brief ‘Good to meet you,’ he turned around and walked back to the crime scene with a mournful Baekhyun left gazing wistfully after him.  ‘I like him,’ Baekhyun told Chanyeol later that day. ‘You might say he looks like ‘Hell in heels’ but I don’t think Hell has ever had the pleasure.’

Jongin led him over to a quiet corner where journalists, police and medics couldn’t bother them. “Are you alright?” He asked and Chanyeol nodded. “I’m sorry I couldn’t see you sooner, everything’s been so hectic-”

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me, I know.” Jongin looked at him and Chanyeol felt his heart ache at how tired his friend looked. “I’m worried about you.”

“And I’m worried about Sehun and Lu.” Jongin responded with a breathy laugh, “it’s like a bloody cycle.”

“They’ll be fine. Luhan’s making a speedy recovery, he’ll be out of the hospital soon enough and Minseok wants to host a dinner of some sort. You know his celebratory 'welcome back' ones?”

Baekhyun was mouthing something from behind Jongin’s shoulder. ‘Ask him about the lieutenant!’. Chanyeol must have grimaced because Jongin glanced self-consciously over his shoulder before relaxing. “You wanna know about Yifan, huh?”

Baekhyun nodded just as hard as Chanyeol shook his head. “Don't be ashamed, I saw you eyeing him up earlier.”

“And you don’t?” Chanyeol asked, curious more than embarrassed.

Jongin shrugged nonchalantly in a way that said he probably had ogled at one point, but not anymore. “He’s cool though, let’s me call him ‘Kris’ sometimes. Everyone in the precinct is terrified of him. I even heard that he has a back tattoo of a Chinese dragon, if that isn’t hardcore then I don’t know what is.”

“Are you scared of him too?”

“Nah, he’s probably the only person in the precinct who treats me like a worthy person. Just this morning when I thought I was going to die, he offered me a coffee and just dragged me onto the field. Just like that. He didn’t even need to tell anyone. Sometimes I think that Kris has more power than the fucking chief.”

Baekhyun swooned and clasped his hands together and his glittering bracelet turned to molten gold, fashioning into a bedazzled set of handcuffs. Whilst Baekhyun was mumbling nonsense like ‘arrest me’, Chanyeol was left wondering if the liquid gold hurt him or if it was, like much else, an illusion.

There was a faint buzzing sound and Jongin pulled out his phone, excusing himself with a friendly pat on the shoulder. At this point, the sky was slowly beginning to darken with heavy, brooding clouds filled with rain. Chanyeol didn’t feel particularly cold. If he peered around that one ambulance he’d be able to see a neat row of orange body bags, some of them were empty, just waiting for another victim to raise the death toll.

Why did his subconscious bring him here? What had he meant when he told Jongin he just ‘wanted to see’? What had he been expecting other than damage, chaos and death? A bitter aftermath of a nasty scar. All of a sudden the sound of the drills seemed too loud, reverberating in his mind like an endless echo. The smoke and dust that rose from the broken concrete reminded him of the billowing flames and he began to feel the heat lick at his skin, ready to melt him down like a wax candle.

Chanyeol swayed on the spot and ugly black spots obscured his vision. The concrete seemed too close and he began to pitch forwards. He saw Baekhyun reach out to catch him, his arms were outstretched and his golden handcuffs snapped back into liquid, reforming around his wrist like a coiling snake.

Somehow, his fall was slow enough for him to think, with affection, ‘don’t be stupid. You cannot catch me’. But deep in his dizzy haze of consciousness, he felt himself crash into a warm body; lithe arms caught him around his chest and slowly lowered him towards the floor where he slumped heavily in a mess of limbs. He felt cool silk on his cheek and when he inhaled he could smell lavender and mint.

He grabbed onto his arms, not quite believing in his own senses. “Baekhyun,” he gasped and he laughed breathlessly into his chest. “You’re real! I don’t believe it- you’re here! I can feel you!”

Baekhyun patted him comfortingly on his back and then began to pull away, gently unwinding and untangling around him like vines. Chanyeol braced harder against him, gripping onto his sleeves. “No,” he murmured, drunk off the heavy fragrance of lavender. “No- where are you going? Don’t go- Baek, you can’t just leave me- no, no.”

With grim reluctance, he raised his head from the cloud of silk, just so he could see his face, radiant and beaming and to feel his skin- soft? I want to see your eyes- pretty. Silver. Baekhyun-

Silver? No. A twin set of winter-blue eyes gazed down at him, framed by long, dark lashes. Lips? Soft? These lips were deep red, sharply outlined like art. The stranger shifted and hair, long and silky, cascaded over their shoulder and brushed against Chanyeol’s cheek.

“I’m sorry,” the stranger said. “I don’t know who Baekhyun is.”

Quick as lightning, Chanyeol let go and scrambled back, breathing hard and fast like a spooked animal; nearby medics had rushed over and were saying reassuring words that fell redundantly on deaf ears. Chanyeol was fixed on the girl before him who stared back with a sympathetic gaze, one hand raised as a sign of peace. It went unheeded.

Chanyeol was one step away from a panic attack. He didn’t know where to look; people were crowding around him, reporters, concerned civilians, medics. They seemed to be closing in on him, all of them asking him questions that he couldn’t answer. His entire body was seizing up in its trancelike paralysis and his breath came out in short, laboured puffs. Chanyeol felt like he was deep underwater, floating about in the crippling darkness of the ocean floor, his heart was beating impossible fast under the crushing pressure and his blood felt like shards of glass in his veins. Where was Jongin? Where was Baekhyun? Even the girl had disappeared, swallowed up by the towering masses. The pressure squeezed his lungs, his limbs, his heart, obscured his vision, his hearing and silenced his voice.

He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe.

Someone was calling his name. He could hear it but his brain wasn’t registering it. It sounded far away and foreign as if his mind had forgotten and he was only picking it up because it sounded familiar. Someone shoved their way through the crowd, shoving them away. Two people, one was fending people off and the other one was crouched before him, reaching out to him with their hand.

“It’s me, Jongin. Jesus, are you alright?”

Chanyeol shook his head but the vice around his lungs loosened and the pressure receded. The tears spilt like waves and the knot in his throat finally loosened until he was able to breathe and cry. Jongin was hugging him now, his firm arms wrapped around his entire body, ensuring that he was safe and secure. Chanyeol’s fists bunched up the fabric of his coat as he shook and trembled with each wrecking sob.

“Chanyeol…”

He lifted his head for the briefest of seconds and he saw Baekhyun’s face. It was so close that it was all he could see. Silver eyes blocked out the mayhem around them. He looked so concerned, so genuinely upset that Chanyeol wanted to hug him. Baekhyun offered a watery smile as if he heard.

Jongin was the one comforting him, but if Chanyeol focused hard enough on Baekhyun’s face, on his eyes, his lips and his hair then he could almost imagine that Baekhyun was the one with his arms around him.

 

\----

 

Just as predicted, it was raining. Once Chanyeol had calmed down the medics had insisted on checking up on him and ushered him into the back of one of the ambulances. After explicitly telling them that he didn’t want to go to the hospital, they agreed (reluctantly) to just let him sit in the ambulance for a while. Jongin had stayed with him for most of it. Long enough to tell him that the phone call had been from the forensics team. “Results have come back and it turns out that the bomb residue taken from the scene have matches to fifteen other people around the city. It’s a lot but at least we have a lead now.” He had also mentioned that working with Yifan had its perks, without him as his partner the forensics probably never would have told him at all.

After a while, Jongin was called away by Yifan and he apologetically said that he had to leave. “I’ll keep you updated,” he promised. “If you see Sehun before I do-”

“I’ll tell him you love him.” Chanyeol finished with a dismissive wave of his hand. Jongin turned red and opened his mouth to object but Yifan coughed behind him so with one last wave he was gone.

Shortly after he left, the rain began to come down hard and Chanyeol was growing cold in the ambulance. With a brief thanks to the medics, he pulled up his hood and raced back towards his flat.

When he reached halfway, the rain was so heavy that he could barely see. It hailed down on him in piercing sheets that felt like ice on his skin. He had no choice but to stumble blindly into the closest coffee shop and wait for it to end.

He peeled off his soaked jacket, cringing when he left a messy puddle on the floor; rainwater ran off the slope of his nose in steady drips and the wet clumps of his hair could only resemble a dirty mop. Chanyeol was the picture of misery.

He slumped down at a table for two and pushed the chair opposite him with his foot, as if on cue Baekhyun fizzled into shape before him, sitting in the chair with his elbows placed placidly on the table. He looked real as ever aside from the fact that Chanyeol could see the outline of the chair through him.

They didn’t say anything for a while; for the first time, neither of them had anything to say. In truth, Baekhyun had never seen Chanyeol react quite so badly to anything before; Jongdae and Minseok had always been there to calm him, reliable as ever, but this time Baekhyun had seen sheer, palpable terror in his eyes and he didn’t know if he’d ever be able to address it.

“Should we...talk about what happened?” He asked, weakly.

Chanyeol uttered a short, scalding laugh and his fingers fritted restlessly against the table surface like he was drumming out the rapid beat of his heart. When he spoke his voice was low and hoarse from the cold and tears. “For a moment I thought you were real,” he admitted, “back when the girl caught me. I thought that was you. I had wished with everything I had that it was.”

Baekhyun frowned, not at Chanyeol but more to himself. He had wanted to help him, even from the very beginning when he had first seen him in Minseok’s apartment, timid and very damaged. He frowned deeper; come to think of it he couldn’t remember anything before him. He tried to recall past memories but they were all unnaturally blank, almost as if he had never lived until he had met Chanyeol. These past weeks he had watched him laugh, scream and cry all at his expense; when had Baekhyun’s existence felt less like servitude and more like a life? But he also realised, with bitter remorse, that Chanyeol needed more than just his invisible company. He needed his friends and genuine support, someone to hold him if he ever descended into panic again. Baekhyun had nothing left to give. Nothing but a wish he knew he couldn’t grant.

“Why did you reach for me, Baek?” Chanyeol asked, his voice was still quiet. “Why did you try to catch me when you knew you couldn’t?”

That question caught him off-guard. Had he known? As he looked back on what happened he knew that he had called Chanyeol’s name for the soul-purpose of catching him, of protecting him. Not a single fragment in his ethereal body had told him that he couldn’t. “I don’t know,” said Baekhyun. “Sometimes I feel more human than I actually am.”

This answer pleased Chanyeol and he smiled like he agreed. He turned his hand over on the table, his palm open and facing up in an inviting way. Baekhyun didn’t care what Chanyeol really needed because all he knew was that all he needed was to be by his side. Baekhyun was decidedly selfish like that; he couldn’t afford to lose the only that made him feel alive. He beamed brightly back at him and placed his own transparent had through his. Neither of them could feel each other’s touch but it was more real than anything else.

“Pardon me! May I sit with you for a moment?”

It was the girl from earlier. Chanyeol had no clue where she had come from for her hair was dry and untouched by the torrential rain outside, much unlike his own hair which was just between the stages of curling and frizzing up. He nodded, a little stunned and embarrassed by her presence.

To both Baekhyun and his surprise, she didn’t sit down in the chair opposite him even though (last time he checked anyway) Baekhyun was very much invisible and willing to move. Instead, she pulled up a nearby chair instead.

“Two coffees, ma’am.” She called out to the waitress who smiled at her from behind the counter, obviously charmed by her smile. She spoke fluent Korean, almost as if she was a native but there was an ever so slight accent to her pronunciation and her appearance was very western.

“You’re British,” Chanyeol observed and opposite him, Baekhyun seemed to be mulling over the fact. He knew just as well that in every movie the person with the seductive British accent was always a certified villain. Instead of giving him a straight answer, the girl simply laughed.

“Oh no,” she said with that same winning smile. “This accent is fake.”

Chanyeol laughed nervously, clearly unsure as to whether she was joking or not. Baekhyun didn’t seem all too pleased either; although Chanyeol very rarely saw any other emotion other than constant joy and excitement in him, he had come to learn that in the infrequent spells of negativity Baekhyun would always wear his heart on his sleeve whether he wanted to or not. Right now a fierce type of jealousy reigned supreme across his face. It was an ugly look for Baekhyun, whose features had always looked better with his trademark smile. It unnerved him.

The waitress came and went, setting down their cups of steaming coffee. Chanyeol picked his one up immediately just so he had something to do. He noticed that she didn’t take any notice of hers.

“I’m Alice by the way.” She held out her hand and Chanyeol shook it. They let go at the right time and there was no flirtatious eye-contact but he could feel Baekhyun’s eyes linger for just a moment too long.

“Park Chanyeol.” He replied.

“I’m sorry about what happened back there, I couldn’t help you we just got swarmed by so many people. I’m lucky that I found you here.” Chanyeol reassured her that it wasn’t her fault and she nodded before continuing. “So who’s ‘Baekhyun’ if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She doesn’t waste time does she?” The genie said in, glacially. “Tell her you do mind, Chan. It’s none of her business.”

At that moment Alice raised her head and stared through Baekhyun, although judging by the way he stiffened under her gaze, Chanyeol wouldn’t be entirely surprised if it turned out she was looking directly at him. Could she see him? Why else would she have pulled up a chair instead of sitting across from him? His coffee suddenly tasted like ash in his mouth and he nervously wet his dry lips on impulse.

“Did you see something?” He asked and prayed that she didn’t see it as a fatuous question. Her reply was good-natured enough, a simple ‘no, don’t mind me,’ if a little late and hesitant. Baekhyun seemed spooked and it was evident that he wanted to say something but didn’t want to risk Alice overhearing.

“I don't mean to bother you and there’s no easy way to say this but do you believe in the supernatural, Chanyeol?” He glanced at Baekhyun and then shrugged. “I think you should. Ghosts, for example? I find that as pivotal and final as death is, there’s no possible way the dead could all fit beneath the Earth, souls are not to be repressed or delayed, you see?”

Baekhyun rose out of his seat, his fists clenched tightly by his sides. Who does she think she is? What on earth is she saying? Come on, Chanyeol. Let’s go.

But Chanyeol was riveted by Alice’s trenchant stare. She kept him floored even though he was sitting and she made him weak for breath even though he wasn’t moving. Alice, by no exaggeration, terrified him. How could she have known what she knew? Did she know what she was talking about? More importantly, was she hinting at something that he was too blind or reluctant to comprehend?

Any other day on the first week, Chanyeol would have jumped at the opportunity for an explanation for the strange happenings following Baekhyun’s appearance, but now that he was faced with said opportunity he found that he was cringing away from it. Alice’s words had frightened him and something told him that he wouldn’t like anything that she said regardless of what it was. She had honest eyes and that’s what scared him. The Truth. His consciousness yearned for it with such ardour and desperation that he thought he would suffocate, and yet something deeper within him spoke in Baekhyun’s voice. It told him that sweet ignorance was better than anything that this stranger could offer.  

Alice noticed his apprehension and she said, ‘I hope I didn’t confuse you too much’ which really translated into a bunch of other meanings: I think you do believe in the supernatural. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about. Do you want to know more? I can tell you. If you want.

“I don’t mean to alarm you,” Alice said. “But I can feel it hanging about you. A mist. An odour. I know it better than anyone and I could recognise it anywhere.”

What? What is it?

Alice replied to his thoughts as if she had heard them. As if somehow, he had screamed loudly enough in his head for her to be able to understand. “Death.” She said, “it hangs over you like a dark cloud. Souls mustn’t be delayed and if you’re not careful then-”

Somehow it was at that moment that Baekhyun’s voice returned. ‘What are you doing?” He was saying. ‘Why are you listening to her?’ ‘We need to go.’ ‘We have to go!’ ‘Move!’ ‘Chanyeol!’

Chanyeol. Move. Get out. Don’t listen. Don’t trust. Chanyeol, Chanyeol, Chanyeol.

Finally, Chanyeol was willing enough to heed Baekhyun’s words and abide by them. He rose to his feet, his long legs clattered against the table and Alice’s untouched coffee frittered in its saucer, the cooled liquid sloshing over the side. “I’m sorry- I have to go-”

“Let me explain,” Alice said urgently and she too rose out of her chair to grab his arm.

Baekhyun screamed ‘Don’t touch him!’ the same time Chanyeol said, “Don’t touch me!” and their voices coalesced together in his head into some warped harmony. Alice jolted back, momentarily stunned and then her expression changed and twisted into an ugly frown.

The waitress was beginning to make her way over, concern written clearly over her face. But before she could get close enough to warn or threaten them, Alice let go and took a step back. The waitress looked relieved but didn’t step away.

“If it’s what you wish,” she said and for a brief moment, Chanyeol wondered if she knew about Baekhyun’s power to grant a wish too. “If it’s what you want then I’ll back down. Call me if you ever should need my help, you won’t need a phone just remember my name and Chanyeol-” she paused for a moment, worrying her lip between her teeth. “I hope you don’t regret what you chose.”

She didn’t say anything else after that but her final words resonated so deeply within him that she didn’t need to. Chanyeol watched, shaken and spooked as she stepped out into the rain and eventually vanished within the shrouded deluge.   
  
He turned back to Baekhyun, ready to apologise for ignoring him, for not listening to him and for doubting him. He looked around the coffee shop to see his deep red hair but he saw none and he wouldn’t until Baekhyun deemed it fit to reappear. Because whilst Chanyeol had been distracted by Alice’s hand on his arm, Baekhyun had easily stolen away into his invisibility, both out of spite and against his better judgement.

 

 


End file.
